WEBVTT

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And finally a poem
called Before Us.

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You were there all the time.

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And I saw only the days,
the air, the nights,

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the moon changing, cars
passing, and faces at windows.

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The windows, the rain,
the leaves, the years.

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Words on pages telling
of something else.

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Wind in a mirror.

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Everything begins
so late after all

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when the solitaires have already
gone and the doves of Tanna.

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When the laughing owls
have long been followed

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by question marks,
and honeycreepers

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and the brown bears of Atlas,
the white wolf and the sea mink

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have not been seen
by anyone living.

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We wake so late after
many dreams, it is clear.

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When the lake has
vanished, the shepherds

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have left the
schielings, grandparents

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have dissolved with
their memories,

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dictionaries are full of graves.

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Most of the rivers are lethal.

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We thought we were younger
through all those ages

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of knowing nothing.

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And there you are at
last, after such fallings

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away and voyages beside
me in the dawning room.

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We wake together and the
world is here and its dew.

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You are here, and
the morning is whole.

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Finally, the light is young.

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Because it is here, it
is not like anything.

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How could it have taken you so
long to appear, bloom of air,

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tenderness of leaves?

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Where were you when
the lies were voting

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and the fingers
believed faces on money?

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Where were we when
the smoke washed us

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and the hours
cracked as they rang?

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Where was I when we passed
each other on the same streets

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and traveled by the same
panes to the same stations?

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Now we have only the age
that is left to be together.

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The brief air, the
vanishing green,

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ordure in office,
tourists on the headland,

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the last hours of the sea.

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Now we have only the words we
remember to say to each other.

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Only the morning of your
eyes and the day of our

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faces to be together.

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Only the time of our hands with
its vexed motor and the note

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of the thrush on
the guava branch

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in the shining rain for
the rest of our lives.

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